Tom Riddle on Harry Potter
by Onesmartcookie78
Summary: For The Quidditch League FanFiction Competition: Round 1 Relationship Challenge: Enemies. Tom Riddle -trapped in the diary Riddle- shares his thoughts on Harry... and Ginny. One-shot.


Tom Riddle on Harry

Onesmartcookie

**Summary:** Tom Riddle -trapped in the diary Riddle- shares his thoughts on Harry... and Ginny

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing...

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"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine. Craving the distraction of the game, I sympathize entirely. But sentiment, sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side."

-Sherlock Holmes, BBC's _Sherlock_

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Tom Riddle hated Harry Potter. He barely knew who the boy was, only that the older version of him -whose memories he could access on occasion- hated him. Therefore, Tom Riddle hated him. The boy would have to die- those were his orders.

And so he spent every day in waiting, listening to the Weasley girl blather on about Harry Potter.** "He's so fit!"** She would write, though she was eleven and knew not what it meant. **"But he doesn't pay any attention to me. I wonder if he even knows that I exist?"**

No. And he won't until you develop breasts. But Tom was charming and manipulative. He knew that he couldn't say that. He knew that such a thing would drive the girl away. So he played sweet, played endearing... he played sentimental. Oh, sentiment. The word made him hiss in annoyance. Caring was not an advantage, and this teenage boy would be the first to tell you so. He assured her in that soft-spoken way of his: _**"That's okay, Ginny, because I care about you."**_ The words burned him, scalded his hand as he flowed the ink across the page in that beautiful, lovely script of his. Handwriting that was somehow unsmeared, despite his left handedness. Elegant, gorgeous calligraphy streamed from his quill effortlessly. Seamlessly. Inexplicably.

**"Really, Tom? You do?"** The reply was instantaneous, desperate. Longing.

_**"Yes, Ginny, and I always will."** Sentiment_. How base, how disgusting. Childish. Such was below him. Below the great Lord Voldemort. He who all would worship. He, who his Knights -no, Death Eaters- did bow to. There was a difference between sycophancy -obsequiousness- and sentiment.

**"But Harry won't, Tom, and I love him so much."** Needy, craving. Desirous. How atrocious.

_Who needs Harry when you have me! I'm more attractive, polite! I've catered to your insecurities! What else could a little girl want?_ He was saying all of the right things- he knew he was. He had stroked her flailing self-esteem, given her metaphorical pats on the head! If this had happened to any of his followers, he would have found amusement in the matter.

But he couldn't. Not when it was him. This was all Harry's fault. If the boy could just put his overbearing curiosity to use and exercised that limited brain power of his, Tom wouldn't have to deal with the Weasley. He wouldn't have to invest any further in the blood traitor if Harry could just find his blasted diary!

_**"Harry is a fool,"**_ insulting him probably wasn't the best way to do it, but perhaps he could get his point across... _**"For not seeing what's right in front of him. You're a lovely girl, Ginny, and you deserve better."**_ _Lies_. He was lying again. How many times had he been told not to lie? Oh, yes, never. He'd never been told so before because he'd never had parents. Parents were meant to teach their children, but how is a child to learn when he has no one to teach him? It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault that he'd turned into a genocidal psychopath.

_I am better._

**"Do you mean that, Tom?"** _No. I am superior. I am above don't even deserve to be in my presence, Weasley._ Bow down. Be humbled. Subservient. _You belong to me. The world belongs to me._

_Of course I "mean" that, you daft, fumbling bimbo!_**_"Definitely, Ginny. If I could come out of this diary-"_ **_I would kill Harry Potter_ -**_"I would tell you in person."_ **_And you. I would- no, I will kill you._ He would kill her along with Harry, slowly, intimately; in every way she'd confided to fear. Who foolishly admits to someone they know not their darkest desires, their most depressing fears?

Sentiment. Rash, despicable, reckless sentiment. Naive, frivolous. Infantile. Blasted sentiment.

**"I love you too, Tom."**

_I never said that! I would never say that!_

Sickening. Trapped. Alone. Forever bound to scraps of leather and parchment. He longed to escape his prison of lines and words. It was never meant to be an oasis. His time here was not meant to be enjoyed.

If only he hadn't read all the books in this room. If only he hadn't mastered all of his spells. If only he had someone to torture. Psychological torture, psychological warfare, wasn't enough. He needed to feel his hands around her throat. Physical murder was always the best, wasn't it?

_**"Until we speak again, sweet Genevra."**_ _I wish I never had to speak to you again. Never write in me again. Give me to Potter. Be rid of me. Leave me be._

He could hear her girlish giggles. The sound made him cringe. The sound made him recoil further in on himself, if possible. The sound made him want to cry, scream out his frustration. His agony. His hatred.

_Potter's fault._ It was all Potter's fault.

His fault that he was stuck here. And Lucius too. Lucius had been the dimwit to decide that the Weasley girl would be an easy in to the life of of Harry James Potter. He had proven right, of course, but he didn't have to like it. Not at all. She was irritating. She was barmy.

Tom Riddle _hated_ Harry Potter with a dying, _burning_ passion. The only thing he'd ever been passionate about. He knew who the boy was, knew why the older version of him hated him. The Weasley had filled in the blanks with her sentiment. The boy would have to die- and soon.


End file.
